


Sarcasm and Sprinkles

by Cobrilee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, And yummy delicious cupcakes, M/M, Stiles runs a food blog, There is lots of snarking and banter, and ust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-13
Updated: 2016-12-13
Packaged: 2018-09-08 07:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8835790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cobrilee/pseuds/Cobrilee
Summary: Stiles loves Isaac's bakery. His staff, not so much. So what if he likes complaining about Derek on his food blog? It means nothing. 
That's what he tells himself, anyway. He's fooling no one (except maybe Derek).





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SixSpades (satisfythosethrills)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/satisfythosethrills/gifts).



“Welcome to Sarcasm and Sprinkles.”

Stiles glances up at the bored, disinterested voice that greets him. “Hey, way to go on that welcoming vibe. A plus job, really.”

The guy attached to the voice is anything but boring. He's the epitome of tall, dark, and handsome, with kaleidoscope eyes, the most perfectly sculpted beard to ever grace a human face, and a body that will certainly be featuring in Stiles’ fantasies for a good decade or so. Unfortunately, his thick eyebrows are raised in annoyance at Stiles’ irreverence, and Stiles heaves a mental sigh of disappointment as he imagines any potential flirtation fluttering away on puffy white wings. 

He stands there awkwardly, shifting back and forth from one foot to the other while Glaring Eyebrows-well, glares. “Um, can I get some cupcakes?”

“Isaac!” Eyebrows yells, lifting himself away from the counter he'd been leaning against and disappearing into the back room. A blonde with curls and blue eyes for days-Isaac, presumably-comes through the swinging door and gives Stiles a half-smile. 

“That dude was an asshole,” Stiles blurts, and the half-smile grows to a full-size one. 

Chuckling, Isaac leans into the counter with the register. “Don't mind Derek, he's all bark and no bite. What can I get for you?”

“I’ve heard amazing things about your cupcakes. I need like a dozen, as well as a supply of insulin and a gallon of milk.” Stiles is already perusing the cupcake display, but he doesn't miss the baffled expression that wipes Isaac’s smile away. “What do you recommend?”

Isaac studies him thoughtfully. “The strawberry shortcake, Nutella, and chocolate mint are popular,” he suggests, and Stiles is already nodding. “We also have a great peanut butter and chocolate, cherries jubilee, and Black Forest cake.”

“I'll take all of them,” Stiles agrees, and he has to check to make sure he's not drooling. “How come I haven't heard of you before now?”

“We're Beacon Hills’ best-kept secret,” Isaac responds wryly, and Stiles catches a hint of frustration. “We're still trying to get the word out.”

“If your cupcakes are half as amazing as they sound, you can count on me to champion you,” Stiles promises. He declines to mention he runs a fairly popular food blog. He hates it when people try to suck up for blog space and a good review. 

“It would be appreciated,” Isaac admits as he rings Stiles up. 

Stiles hands his credit card over and grabs at the shimmering silver bakery box with greedy hands and shining eyes. “No problem. I love sending business to worthy bakeries.” He pauses as he turns away from the counter. “One tip though. Keep Eyebrows away from the front counter or he'll scare away the customers. You really don't want a growling guard dog when you're trying to get people to buy things from you.”

“I'll keep it in mind,” Isaac snorts, but Stiles barely notices because he's already trying to decide if the inevitable stomach ache he'll get from eating them all at once would be worth it. 

\-----

He goes back more than a few times over the course of the next month, falling increasingly in love with the cupcakes, and the cake pops, and the sugar cookies, and literally everything else Sarcasm and Sprinkles sells. 

He does  _ not _ fall increasingly in love with the asshole who apparently gets paid to hold up the counter. 

Every time he makes a blog post he rhapsodizes about the goods and bitches about the staff. His reviews are a mix of “OMG the peanut butter and chocolate cupcake with the peanut butter frosting and the chocolate ganache filling is like a fucking orgasm exploding in my mouth, except ten thousand times better,” and “The grumpy fucker who apparently doesn’t understand that people get paid to  _ work _ instead of being a total bag of dicks was, yet again, a grumpy fucker. Goddamn, Isaac needs to fire him.”

It’s around the end of that first month that he decides Isaac and Eyebrows (he knows his name is Derek, but he’s too much of a douchebag to have earned the right to be called his real name) are dating. That’s the only explanation for why Isaac is hauling his dead weight around and putting up with that shit-tastic attitude. Stiles isn’t entirely sure why that thought really bothers him, but then he decides it’s because Isaac is too good for this world and deserves way better than Eyebrows (actually, maybe he should call him Chad, Chad is a quality douchebag name). 

It’s at that point that he realizes his blog posts are becoming more of bitching about Eyebrows than talking about the orgasmic delicacies that have caused him to put on a few pounds, and his comments reflect his new obsession.

_ Why do you still go there if you hate Grumpy Fucker so much? _

_ I subscribe to your blog to hear about the food, not your complaints about the help. Get over it. _

_ This sounds more like a load of UST to me. Just ask him out and maybe then you’ll be able to concentrate on the food again. _

The next time he heads into Sarcasm and Sprinkles, he resolves that he’s going to ignore Eyebrows (ooh, Glarey McGlaringFace is kind of catchy, maybe that can be the new name) and just enjoy whatever goodies Isaac has baked up.

“Jesus, Stiles, what are you doing to me?” Isaac yells as he walks in, and he blinks. Isaac never yells at him. Isaac loves him.

Okay, Isaac tolerates him because he raves about the food and he’s single-handedly increased sales over the last month. Isaac found out about the blog when people started coming in and citing him as the reason. He doesn’t like to brag about his reach and influence, but Isaac should totally name a cupcake after him.

“What did I do?” Stiles asks, leaning on the counter and smiling sunnily at Eyebrows, who-shocker-glares back at him. 

Isaac runs a frustrated hand through his mop of blonde curls. “Sales have dropped off since you started spending more time bitching about Derek than talking about the cupcakes.”

Stiles straightens, miffed. “I’m sorry, when did I become your personal shill? I’m under no obligation to say anything about your bakery.” He catches a glimpse of Eyebrows out of the corner of his eye, who is folded in on himself even more than usual, sulking, thick brows hooding his eyes until he looks more like a puppet than a human. What was the one from Sesame Street? Bert? Bert had the eyebrows, he’s pretty sure.

Oh, hey. Bert. That’s another potential name to be added to the list.

“I know you’re not, and honestly, I’d rather you didn’t say anything at all than complain about Derek all the time,” Isaac snaps back in exasperation. “I appreciate you bringing in more business for us, but you’re going to destroy me if you keep driving more people away than you bring in.”

Stiles bites his lip, feeling like utter shit. He knows that his tendency toward talking crap about Eyebrows-fuck, okay, Derek-has been dominating everything on his blog lately. He’s about to apologize and promise to back off, when-

“I don’t know why you care what some low-rent blogger has to say,” Derek-no, fuck that shit, he’s been demoted back to Eyebrows-drawls insolently. His eyes skim Stiles from head to toe in a way that is both incredibly infuriating and also makes Stiles feel like he’s naked. “Your goods speak for themselves. Nobody cares if he gets all pissy and wants to throw a temper tantrum.”

Stiles pulls himself to his full height, which maybe compared to Isaac isn’t that intimidating, but he’s still almost nose-to-nose with Eyebrows as he leans over the counter. “Fuck. You.”

He takes a small measure of satisfaction when, as he strides furiously toward the front door, he hears Isaac whisper a frantic, “Fucking fix this, you idiot!” at Eyebrows.

Then he makes it outside, victorious, and realizes he didn’t get anything to eat. Shit.

\-----

It’s not an exaggeration to say he is shocked out of his mind when he walks into Sarcasm and Sprinkles and fucking Eyebrows is standing there-well, no, that’s not the shocker, that’s a given. The shocker is that Eyebrows gives him a half-hearted smile, which, honestly, looks more like a grimace of indigestion, but it’s clear he’s trying.

“Do you need a hospital?” Okay, it’s not the cleverest thing he could say, but Eyebrows pauses in his attempt to twist his features into something resembling a pleasant expression, blinking in bafflement.

“Why the fuck would I need a hospital?” he grumbles, and Stiles gives him his most charming grin.

“Because you look like you’re having a stroke,” Stiles confides, making a faux-sympathetic moue with his mouth. “My Jeep is right outside. I even promise not to push you out and underneath the tires on the way.”

“Fuck off,” Eyebrows snaps, and Stiles snickers. “I was trying to be nice, you dick. I don’t know why the fuck I bothered.”

“Neither do I,” Stiles snorts. “You haven’t been nice to me since the first day I stepped in here. Why would today be any different?”

Eyebrows gapes at him. “Me? You’ve been a snarky, sarcastic asshole since the first time you opened your mouth.”

“While that is true, I feel compelled to point out that the name of this place is Sarcasm and Sprinkles,” Stiles reminds him. “I should be the honorary mascot or something.”

“Jesus,” Eyebrows groans, tipping his chin until his face is pointed heavenward, and dammit, Stiles realizes with a start of surprise that his throat is incredibly lickable.

Fuck. 

Fuck, no. No no no no no no no.

“You’re the world’s biggest pain in the ass, aren’t you?” Eyebrows bitches.

Stiles surprises both of them by grinning and saying, “Would you like to find out?”

Eyebrows blinks at him, mouth falling open slightly, and Stiles wonders what the other man would do if he leaned over the counter and just bit it a little. Or a lot. “I thought maybe we’d start with starting over, instead.”

Stiles eyes him skeptically. “I don’t know, I’m pretty sure you’re incapable of any expression other than surly, pissed off, or in pain. I don’t think you could be nice to me if your life depended on it.”

“You’d be surprised,” he counters sharply, and Stiles smirks.

“I’d say challenge accepted, but I think that would mean forcing myself to endure your company longer than it takes to order, and I don’t hate myself that much.”

“Oh my  _ God _ you are such an asshole,” Derek growls, and Stiles snorts at the realization that Derek sounds an awful lot like he does when he says that.

He also realizes that he’s just started thinking of him as Derek. Damn. It. 

Stiles can feel the other man starting to worm under his skin, and he’s pretty sure that’s the worst thing that could possibly happen.

“Get me a half dozen cupcakes. Variety pack, your choice,” he mutters in response, and Derek rolls his eyes before heading into the back.

“Isaac! Customer!”

“Oh my  _ God _ , you are literally the worst!” Stiles calls out behind him, and he can hear Derek snort out a huff of laughter. Huh. Eyebrows-Bert-McGlaringFace has a sense of humor. Who knew?

\-----

Stiles stays away from the bakery for two solid weeks before he finally gives in. His followers appreciate the reduction in complaints about Grumpy Fucker, but they're missing how he waxes poetic about Isaac's cake pops. 

There are also a few jokes about how it's Derek's cake pop he really wants, but he resolutely ignores those. 

When he reluctantly walks in the door, Derek pops off the counter, eyes widening. “We thought you abandoned us.”

“Not for lack of trying,” mumbles Stiles, and Derek's eyes narrow on him sharply. “My followers miss me talking about this place. I figured I needed to check in, see if Isaac has anything new that I can't afford to miss out on.”

“Do you like pineapple?” Derek's already moving to the bakery case and reaching in. 

“I like it when my boyfriends eat pineapple,” he shoots back without thinking, and Derek blinks at him, and Stiles reddens. Damn it. He did not mean to go there. “Y’know, because it, um, makes things taste better.” Derek still stares at him uncomprehendingly, and Stiles heaves an irritated sigh. The fucker couldn't let him out of this gracefully. “Come, you asshole. It makes a guy’s come taste better.”

His own embarrassment is almost worth it when Derek flushes a brick red. “Um. Here.” He shoves a yellow cupcake at Stiles. “On the house.”

“No,” Stiles balks. “I don't want freebies in exchange for good reviews.”

“Just fucking take it, you asshole,” Derek growls, “and let me do something nice for once.”

Stiles watches him warily as he takes a large mouthful of the cupcake. He's half-expecting poison, but he's pleasantly surprised by a pineapple-flavored cake. “Ahmygaw,” he exclaims, voice muffled by the mouthful. “Thih ih fuhing awefome.”

Derek smiles, just a little. “Pineapple upside down cake,” he offers. “My suggestion.”

Stiles swallows down the last bits. “My opinion of you has drastically improved.”

Derek colors again, and gives Stiles a shy smile. “Enough to maybe go out with me?”

His mouth falls open in shock. “I thought you were dating Isaac!”

Derek stares at him, nonplussed. “What in the world makes you think I'm dating Isaac?”

“Why else would he keep your grumpy, scowly ass around?” Stiles scoffs. “It's not like you're a ray of sunshine that brings in the customers.”

Derek visibly struggles to remain calm. “Is that a no to going out with me, then?”

“Why do you want to go out with me?” he questions, not ready to take it at face value. 

“Because I want to get to know you better,” Derek sighs. 

Alarms blare in Stiles’ brain. There is no way a man this sinfully gorgeous would actually be interested in him. Isaac's hissed instructions to “fix this” echo in his mind. “Thanks, but I don't need a date from someone throwing themselves on their sword to get me to start raving about the bakery again. I'll leave you out of any future blog posts, I promise.”

Derek opens his mouth, but before he can say anything that would further damage his ego, Stiles cuts him off. “Thanks for the cupcake, I'll talk it up and you'll have more business again. You should tell Isaac to let you help out with new flavors more often.”

Then he makes his escape, giving Derek a half-hearted wave over his shoulder. He wonders why it feels like he's just taken a brutal kick to his ribs, but chalks it up to eating the sugary cupcake too quickly. 

That's what he tries to convince himself of, anyway. 

\-----

The next time he sees Derek, he's stringing Christmas lights around the bakery case, and Stiles can't help himself. 

“You know, the Grinch took all the decorations  _ down _ ,” he teases, and Derek gives him a dark look. “Isaac doesn't strike me as the type to be all about Christmas cheer.”

“Isaac isn't. Customers are,” he remarks dryly, scowling at the tangle of multi-colored lights. Before Stiles can talk himself out of it, he's stepping up beside Derek and using his long fingers to work knots out of the cord, and Derek silently loops the loosened lights around the case as Stiles feeds the string to him. 

It doesn't take long at all before they've managed to string lights up around the whole shop. “I draw the line at hanging fake snowflakes,” he informs Derek, who snorts in what Stiles presumes is agreement. 

It's the most companionable they've been in the nearly two months Stiles has been coming to Sarcasm and Sprinkles, and Stiles is kind of, sort of afraid of how much he likes it. 

“Any chance you've reconsidered going out with me?” Derek asks, words breaking the comfortable silence, and Stiles frowns suspiciously. “I swear I'm not asking because of the bakery. Or because Isaac pushed me.”

“Then why?” Stiles counters. “We've been at each other's throats since my first visit. This interest kinda came out of nowhere, dude.”

“You'd think,” Derek mumbles. “But, uh, no. It hasn't.”

Stiles blinks. “You hated me right from the start.”

Derek pinks up slightly. “You may have noticed words aren't my forte. I kind of froze up when you came in because I didn't know how to talk to you.”

“You're kidding me,” Stiles protested. 

Derek offers him a sheepish look. “I got angry because I wanted to talk to you and couldn't think of a single thing to say.”

“So do I have a whole date of silence to look forward to, then?” Stiles asks casually, heart pounding, and Derek stares at him for a second. 

Then a slow, spreading smile crosses his face, turning him from a ridiculously hot guy into the most beautiful man Stiles has ever seen in his life. He's done for. 

“You finally get him to say yes?” Isaac asks as he wanders in from the kitchen. Neither Derek nor Stiles take their eyes from each other as Derek nods. “Good. Now maybe you'll stop moaning about how the ridiculously hot guy hates you.” He makes his way back into the kitchen, whistling.

Stiles’ eyes widen as Derek flushes adorably. “You think  _ I'm  _ the ridiculously hot guy?” he asks, voice incredulous. 

“I'm going to kill Isaac,” Derek groans, and Stiles beams. 

“You totally want me.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Against my better judgment.”

“Just fuck already!” Isaac calls from the kitchen. 

Derek slaps a hand over his face and Stiles chuckles. “So. Date, huh? Where are you taking me, Bert?”

“Bert?” Derek echoes, before shaking his head. “Never mind, I don't think I want to know.”

“I'll tell you later. Pillow talk,” Stiles clarifies with a wink, and Derek's eyes gleam. “When are you off shift?”

Derek huffs out a bark of laughter. “You know I don't actually work here, right?” he asks in amusement, and Stiles squawks out a sound of wounded surprise.

“But you are literally  _ always _ here!”

Derek smirks. “I'm a writer. I spend a lot of my time writing here because people-watching helps my creativity.” He points out a laptop on the table to the left side of the kitchen, about ten steps away from the end of the counter, and Stiles realizes he's seen it nearly every time he's been in. He'd just thought it was Isaac's. 

“You are blowing my mind right now,” he informs Derek, who gives him a look of promise that mayyyyybe sends shivers racing down his spine and into his toes. 

“Just wait until you get to know me a little more… intimately,” he murmurs, and yep, there, shivers. 

He was right. He's totally done for. 

**Author's Note:**

> The original request was for a wintery or Christmassy bakery/coffee shop/bookstore AU with fluff and humor, and preferably NSFW. I hit most of that, but not the NSFW. Therefore... *drumroll please* I've got a companion piece in the works. From Derek's POV. And there will be naughty happenings. There may be pineapple referenced. (There is definitely pineapple referenced.)


End file.
